


The Oasis

by cherishcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cupidity, Fluff, Hitchhiker!Dean, M/M, One Shot, Roadtrip!Cas, i have no idea what to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1875777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishcas/pseuds/cherishcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Everyone wants to be loved.  Everyone wants to be</i> in<i> love.  But we don't always know which road will take us there.</i></p><p>In which Castiel sets out on a roadtrip to relive his father's travels and a mysterious leather-clad hitchhiker becomes his new destination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act One

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afUwmXcAchI) video. Shoutout to [Jamie](http://buckyy.co.vu/) for beta-ing this chapter for me :)

Castiel smiles politely at the cashier as she returns his change, shoving the wadded up bills into the pocket of his tan overcoat.  A bell chimes overhead as he emerges into the hot afternoon sun, wrinkling his nose at the pungent aroma of exhaust and gasoline, squinting at the sudden exposure of light.

He’d been driving for over six hours today alone, the heaviness that had been settling into his limbs slowly ebbing away as he pads across the parking lot to his black low slung ‘67 Impala, which looks terribly out of place next to the dirt-caked gas dispensers in it’s pristine condition.

Castiel wasn’t much of a car enthusiast, but he’d fallen in love with the rumble of the engine and the scent of leather and the open road that splayed out before the long gleaming hood.  It felt like home.

“Nice wheels.”

Castiel looks up and takes in the man before him, clad in disheveled leather and flannel with a half smile perched upon rosy pink lips.  Cas immediately shifts his glance back towards his beloved Impala, clearing his throat, “Uh- thank you.”

Castiel tugs the nozzle from it’s holder on the dispenser and shoves it into the side of the car, clunking as the spout slides into place. Cas steals only furtive glances at the man, who is tilted sideways at the waist to admire the car.

The man straightens up and saunters over to lean against the side of the hood.  Cas could clearly see the freckles scattered across his nose haphazardly and his bright green-apple eyes.

“Your tires are looking a little low, want me to fill ‘em up for you?” his voice is gruff with a hint of a Southern drawl, Castiel notes absently.

“I don’t know who you are.” Castiel states bluntly, reaching behind himself for a windshield wiper.  He just wants to get back onto the road.

The man chuckles and steps closer, extending a hand, “Dean Winchester, at your service.” Castiel brushes past his arm to drag the wiper across his windshield and Dean drops it awkwardly, digging it into the pocket of his denim jeans.

“Well, Dean Winchester, I will not be requiring your services.  Thank you for the offer.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow at Cas, hoisting his backpack farther up onto his shoulders, “You going north?”

“Oh, no.” Castiel says in the most sympathetic voice he can manage, hoping he can take the hint and move along.  To no avail.

“Where _are_ you going?”

He replies in a clipped tone; “uh-South.” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Dean nod slowly, lips pursed in thought.  Or annoyance.  It was hard to tell.

“Alright" Dean says, acknowledging Castiel’s hesitance and backing away towards the highway.  Castiel lets out a sigh of relief, replacing the windshield wiper in its place and pulling the nozzle from the gas filler, trying not to dwell on the handsome stranger.

 


	2. Act Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to [Haley](http://deanismysunshine.tumblr.com/) for being lovely and editing this chapter for me.

The neon lights of the Roadhouse flicker hazily as Castiel brings his lips to the straw of his soda, a map splayed out on the counter in front of him, his finger tracing along the inked in lines. He’d already booked a motel for the night, a quaint little place called “The Oasis,” with wood-paneled walls and a cheerful, smiling receptionist who’d insisted with a booming voice to eat at the diner up the road. “Good people, decent food.  Trust me!”

Tomorrow he’ll be heading up to the Grand Canyon and he’d only have to drive four hours rather than the usual seven to nine he’s gotten used to.  Maybe he’ll go for a jog through the National Park nearby, rid the stiffness of his limbs from being cooped up in his car for the past week.

The front door of the diner swings open and shakes Castiel from his thoughts, outlining the silhouette of a man covered in several layers with a backpack flung across his shoulder-

Oh.

Oh _fuck._

Dean Winchester strides across the linoleum floors and Castiel spins in his stool so his trench-coated back would block him from view.  He takes the seat next to Castiel's, running a hand through his light brown locks.

“‘Scuse me,” He leans forwards to read the waitresses nametag. “-Ellen, you got any pie?”

Castiel sips his drink, perhaps a little too hard, seeking an escape route.

“Sure honey, we got apple, pecan-”

“Apple sounds awesome,” Dean chimes in before Ellen could finish, bustling back into the kitchen after an enthusiastic, “Coming right up!”

Castiel worries his lip between his teeth, strategizing how he could make it to the exit without being seen. Before he could, however, he feels Dean lean over his shoulder. “You know, I get it. North is up, south is down; it’s tricky. Maps are hard.”

Cas curses himself and looks back at Dean, who winks suggestively with a click of his tongue. He rolls his eyes, but his crimson cheeks betray him, so he immediately turns back so Dean can't see his face.

“You know you never told me your name, trenchcoat dude.”

Castiel snorts indignantly, shaking his head. “Isn’t hitchhiking illegal?” He tilts his head so he can see Dean out of the corner of his eye, who sits patiently with raised eyebrows.  Castiel huffs.

“My name is Castiel,” he grumbles, hunching over as he brings the soda to his lips once more.

Ellen returns from the kitchen just as Dean opens his mouth to reply, a steaming slice of apple pie balancing on a tin tray in her hands.  He's upon it immediately, barely before the waitress had set the plate on the counter, devouring the pie with huge mouthfuls and sinful moans.

“So good,” he drawls out the O’s and chews loudly in Castiel’s direction, who's noisily slurping in an effort to drown out the man beside him.  An idea strikes him and he sips a little harder, turning around slowly to face Dean.

The man stares at him with cheeks full of pastry, emerald eyes piercing his sapphire ones. Castiel feels his heart skip a beat, but he keeps his face neutral, letting out a thundering belch.  Dean stares at him for several seconds.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said all day.”

Castiel tries to suppress his smile, but it creeps onto his face and he shyly twists back around. He could almost hear Dean smiling as he adds, “Thank you,” and Castiel erupts into giggles.

 

* * *

 

 

“-and then Sammy tried to kick my ass, but it was pretty hard for him to do with one shoe.” Dean explains, and Castiel’s laugh rings out rich into the crisp night air. His cheeks are sore from the amount of smiling he’s been doing in the past couple of hours, but it seems he can’t suppress it whilst around Dean.

The Roadhouse had closed a couple hours ago and they’ve found themselves in the deck area of the Oasis’ pool. The moonlight reflects off the surface of the water and onto Dean’s face, illuminating him as he speaks.

“So, you leaving home or going home?”

Castiel can't think of a good answer to that. “Umm-”

“I just thought- because your car is full of stuff,” Dean adds, gesturing vaguely with a wave of his hand towards the motel parking lot.

“Oh, those belong to my father,” Castiel clarifies, interlocking his fingers between his knees.

“Helping your old man move, or?”

“No.” Castiel takes in a breath, “No, he died.”

“Shit, I’m sorry man.”

Castiel shrugs, “It was a few months ago, I've come to terms with it.  None of my siblings wanted to keep his belongings, so… I’m taking it.”

He hesitates, pulling the worn road map from his pants pocket and Dean’s eyebrows peak with interest.

“I found this map, apparently when he was younger he’d taken a cross-country road trip.  He was a very religious man, you see-” Castiel unfolds the map and smoothes it out across his thighs, dragging his index finger along the drawn-in lines, “-he made several stops at churches, monasteries and convents. You can see here he even visited a couple donation centres... orphanages... wherever people needed him.  He enjoyed helping people, you know, living in the  _now._ I’m trying to follow in his footsteps.”

“Well you aren’t doing a very good job,” Dean teases, smirking. “You didn’t help me at the gas station.”

Castiel chuckles, “You could’ve been a serial killer for all I knew, and I’m fairly certain my father wasn’t picking up hicks on the side of the road.” Dean feigns offense, placing his hand over his heart with his mouth open in a mock gasp. Castiel smiles and continues, “Besides, even if he did, I’m afraid I’m nothing like my father.”

Dean nods sympathetically, “I get it, man. My old man was always trying to get me to get into the family business. To work for the _Winchester & Singer Salvage Yard_ for the rest of my life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a _damn_ good mechanic, it’s just not what I want to do with my life.”

Castiel hums in understanding, tugging at a torn edge on the map. "I figured, because I was unable to live up to my father during his life, I would make it up to him now. Better late than never, I suppose." Cas chuckles humourlessly, casting his gaze downwards, "I didn't even think twice, when I found the map.  I just began to retrace his steps. It's a little strange, I suppose."

"Nah, it's cool." Dean knocks his knee against Castiel's comfortingly, shooting him a reassuring smile. Castiel looks up, catching Dean's eye, holding it for longer than what he supposes is normal.  He shyly pries his eyes away from Dean's and folds up the map, shoving it into his jean pocket, flushing scarlet.

Dean claps his thighs, rising to his feet. "Well, I'm headed in.”

“Oh, have a good night.” Castiel tries not to sound disappointed. He enjoys Dean’s company very much and he doesn't really want the night to end.

Dean bends over and unties his shoes, shrugging them off and kicking them underneath the dusty patio chair.

“Oh I see, you’re headed _in._ ” Castiel snickers.

“Yeah, come on.” Dean shoots him a mischievous grin, jerking his head in the direction of the pool as he tugs off his socks.

Castiel’s eyes go wide. “No no no no,” he says in a rush, laughing.

“Come on, Cas. Let’s go for a swim.” He slips off his leather jacket, beginning to pull at the buttons of his flannel shirt. Castiel wonders just how much he was going to strip, and then he decides not to wonder about it too much because he was already blushing a bright red. He hopes Dean won't notice in the dim light

"Dean, the water is gross.”

“It's just a few leaves,” Dean shrugs, tugging the button-up over his head.

“It’s very cold.”

“What are you? A baby in a trenchcoat?  Are you afraid?”

Castiel frowns, “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Just wear what you’re wearing!” Dean slides his watch off his wrist, standing barefoot in jeans and a white undershirt.  He turns around to face Cas, slowly treading backwards, raising his hand in a salute as he falls backwards and plunges into the water.

“Dean!” Castiel breaks into a fit of laughter as Dean resurfaces, whooping and hollering. His shortly cropped hair is plastered to his skull, his head lightly bobbing above the surface as he treads the water beneath him. “Come on in!”

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m just _living in the now!"_

Castiel sighs, giving in and shrugs the trenchcoat from his shoulders. Dean hollers in response, which makes Castiel grin harder, if that is at all possible. He can't remember the last time he’s smiled this much.

He slips off his shoes and socks, approaching the edge of the pool in his jeans and white button-up. Castiel hesitates, nibbling his lip between his teeth before launching himself into the air.

The water is cold, but not much more so than the air had been. Castiel lets himself sink to the bottom, using his feet to propel himself upwards and break the surface of the water.  The wind bites at his face and he shivers, kicking his legs to keep himself floating. He looks over at Dean, who is smiling widely at him and Castiel returns it wholeheartedly.


	3. Act Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my [Emmalin](http://constellatemyveins.tumblr.com) for proof-reading this chapter for me!

They pull open the gate of the pool with arms full of clothes, their bare feet leaving footprints on the pavement as it swings shut behind them. The midnight breeze chills their damp skin, making them shiver, but they laugh and giggle like children as they make their way to the motel rooms.

Castiel isn't a spontaneous person.  He doesn't jump into pools or burp at strangers or pick up hitchhikers.  He _certainly_ doesn't think about inviting said hitchhikers into his motel room.  But here he was, thinking about it.  In the morning they could set off together; Castiel behind the wheel and Dean sitting shotgun with the highway unfurled ahead of them, the map laid out-

Castiel freezes, dread pooling in his stomach, drowning the butterflies that had been there moments before.

“What’s going on?” Dean stops as well, searching Castiel’s face worriedly.  Castiel reaches into the pocket of his jeans, the soaked denim rubbing uncomfortably against his skin as his fingers fish around inside.  Cas closes his eyes and groans as he feels soggy paper brush against his hand, carefully pulling the ruined map from his pocket. “Fuck.”

“Oh shit.” Dean sucks in a breath, realizing the severity of the situation.

Castiel sighs in frustration, almost in disbelief.  This can’t be happening.  The map is _ruined_ , along with any hopes of following the trail his father had left for him.  He quickens his pace and climbs the rickety stairs of the motel, palm clutching at the railing so tightly he can feel the splinters slice his skin.

“Look, maybe… maybe we can dry it off in the bathroom.”  Dean struggles to catch up to Castiel, taking the steps two at a time.

“Fuck fuck fuck”

“We can fix it, Cas.”

Castiel’s mind is racing, trying to make sense of the situation.  He feels a lump in his throat and swallows it down bitterly, refusing to break into tears in front of Dean.  In front of a stranger.

If Castiel hadn’t been reckless, he wouldn’t be in this mess.  If he’d left the diner as soon as he saw Dean, if he’d said goodbye earlier in the night, if he _hadn’t jumped in the water_ , none of this would be happening.

“This is what I get for _living in the now._ ” Castiel spits.

“Wait look- _slow down_ ”

“I just _had_ to get in the pool.”

“No one pushed you, you jumped.”

Castiel spins around, fists clenched and nails digging scarlet crescents into his palms. “Stop following me!”

Dean comes to a halt, shocked at Castiel’s sudden outburst.

“You can’t sleep in here.” Castiel expresses, scoffing bitterly under his breath.  Minutes ago he’d been considering inviting Dean into his room, now he can’t even look at him.

“The manager gave me a room in exchange for cleaning the pool.”

Castiel shifts his gaze back towards Dean, who was pulling out a silver key from his jacket, his expression withdrawn and irritated.  And something Castiel almost recognizes as hurt.

“Good night.” Dean adds scornfully, shaking his head and pushing open the door to his room, slamming it shut with an air of finality that makes Castiel’s stomach turn.  He fights down the bile  rising in his throat and forces open the door next to Dean’s, retreating into his own room.


	4. Act Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to publish (I'm a horribly slow writer and procrastinator, which is why this whole thing took a month to write ahah)
> 
> Special thanks to my lovely beta [Jess](http://luciferh.tumblr.com/) for correcting all my dumb mistakes and giving me fantastic feedback <3
> 
> Also I'd like to thank [Lisa](http://rubysburnedwings.tumblr.com/) for creating this awesome picspam based on this ficlet!
> 
>  
> 
> I know this is a short story, but it's my first ever completed deancas and I am so so proud of it and thank you all for taking the time to read it ♥

Cas awakens with a foul taste on his tongue, the events of the previous night washing over him like unrelenting waves at shore.  He drags himself up and out of the rough motel sheets, ambling over to where he’d left the map spread out on the floor.

Despite Castiel’s efforts with the blow dryer, the map is still barely legible and therefore unusable.  The paper is shriveled and splotchy: trails of running ink smudged beyond recognition.  Not to mention it’s in pieces; shredded into quarters with spots missing in the middle that had been completely dissolved by the water.

Cas lets out a sigh, gathering up the scraps delicately, placing them between the pages of his father’s Bible.  That would have to do for now.

He changes, this time into a pair of black dress pants and an identical white button-up to the one he’d worn last night, gathering his things and stepping out onto the balcony.  The sun is at its zenith in the sky, indicating that he wouldn’t be getting into Phoenix until mid-afternoon.  He wouldn’t be able to volunteer at the church  _and_ visit the Grand Canyon.

He exhales in annoyance, leaning heavily over the balcony’s railing.  This was all his fault.  If he hadn’t jumped in the water, the map would still be in perfect condition.  If he had ignored Dean at the Roadhouse, he wouldn’t’ve fooled himself into thinking something could happen between them.  If he hadn’t shouted at Dean last night, he wouldn’t have stayed up all night tossing and turning with Dean’s hurt expression burnt into his mind’s eye.

The truth was: last night had been the most enjoyable he’d had in a long time.  Maybe even since before his father had passed away, before he had embarked on his quest.  Dean made him _happy_.  It was a simple fact.  He stares down at the glistening pool, bright blue and ambient.  And clean.

Castiel bites his lip, twisting around slightly to peer at Dean’s door.  It’s ajar, he can plainly see the maid inside bustling about and cleaning the room.

Dean is gone.

Castiel lets out a shaky sigh, clutching the straps of his duffel bag, making his way down the stairs and into the lobby.  He throws the keys at the receptionist, rushing back out to the Impala.  

He feels a hollowness in his chest as the reality of never seeing Dean again hits him like a freight train.  They’d only known each other for a couple hours, yet he almost felt like they shared… a profound bond, of sorts.  And now he’d never see him ever again.

Castiel packs his belongings into the trunk as quickly as he can, anxious to get back onto the road to hopefully find a bowlegged, freckle-dusted hitchhiker by the side of the road. It’s unlikely he’d still be out there, but Castiel refuses to give up his wishful thinking.

He circles around to the driver’s side, pulling at the handle before a flare of light catches his eye.  He tilts his head curiously in the direction of the glare and notices the thick folded up slip of shiny paper wedged beneath the windshield wipers.

Castiel’s mind is reeling as he tugs the paper from the windshield and unfolds it, immediately recognizing it to be identical to his father’s road map, dis-including the drawn-in paths.

"I'm thinking you drive first and then we'll switch when you get tired.”

Castiel jumps at the familiar voice, turning in the direction of the source.  Dean Winchester is opening the back of the Impala and throwing his things into the trunk with an impish grin that stretches from ear-to-ear. Comprehension dawns on him as he looks from the map in his hands to the man in front of him.

“What is this?” Castiel manages to get out, realizing he’s smiling just as widely as Dean is.

“It’s laminated.”

Castiel feels his heart flutter in his chest as Dean swings into the passenger seat with ease, buckling his seatbelt. He’s frozen to the spot, clutching the map, everything about him singing with reverence and joy.

He floats into the driver’s seat, reveling in the roar of the engine and the warm presence of Dean beside him. They fall into a companionable silence, fighting down elated smiles and failing, speaking to each other without uttering a word.

Nothing was perfect of course; the original map was still unreadable. Castiel had memorized most of it, but he wouldn’t be able to remember everything. Not to mention he still knows so little about Dean or where he’s going.  

But as they travel down the deserted highway together, fingers intertwining timidly over the console, Castiel realizes that none of that matters. He’s living in the now, like his father always had.

And he was happy.

 


End file.
